Ron's Secret
by islington bus no. 199
Summary: Ron's got a secret and it's not what you'd expect. Really random, I don't know what came over me. DO NOT TAKE SERIOUSLY!


**Ron's Secret**

**I own nothing…**

"Well, what another bloody useless waste of a lesson," said Harry, "Once again my death has been gruesomely foretold and once again I don't give a damn."

Ron grunted in agreement from beside Harry as they descended the spiral staircase from the Divination classroom.

"I mean, why won't she just leave me alone for once? Surely there's someone else in the class besides me who's going to die. Is that too much to ask?"

Ron nodded silently.

"And," continued Harry, "It's not even as though any of her stupid stuff works, how on earth are soggy tealeaves supposed to tell you what your future hold anyway?"

Harry continued to rant all the way back to the Gryffindor common-room, Ron quietly following, lost in his own thoughts.

"What's wrong with you?" asked Harry suddenly.

"What? Er – nothing," said Ron hurriedly, "Just a bit tired, I think I'll go to bed. Night."  
"Um, night," replied Harry.

He looked down at his watch. Just as he thought; it was only three in the afternoon. Something was definitely wrong with Ron, but what was it? He'd been quiet ever since Divination, but surely nothing had happened during class? Harry thought back.

"My dear," whispered Trelawney in her attempt at an ethereal tone, "I see great misfortune in your future."

"Oh really?" said Harry, "That's nice."

Trelawney looked scandalised, blinking several times.

"Do you not understand, dear boy?" she asked, "I see misfortune!"

"So you said," replied Harry, "Would you care to expand?"

She took a step back.

"I–"

Harry quirked an eyebrow at her. Trelawney took a deep breath.

"I see your death!" she exclaimed.

The class gasped, Harry stared back.

"And how shall my death be served this time?"

"Served, my dear? I'm afraid I do not quite understand your attitude. Perhaps you would do better in another class, with Hermione perhaps."

Harry narrowed his eyes.

"If I am not suited to this class, maybe that is more a reflection on the teaching than on me, _Professor_."

Trelawney gasped and held her hand to her forehead.

"You pain me, boy, I must retire to my rooms; I feel a migraine coming on. Class dismissed!"

The rest of the class filed out past Harry, glaring at him as they went.

No, there was nothing in class that could have upset Ron, unless of course he was taking Trelawney seriously for some reason and was afraid Harry was going to drop dead in the next week. That was fairly unlikely though. Sighing, Harry dropped down on the couch and waited for Hermione to arrive from Arithmancy.

"And you say that nothing happened out of the ordinary in Divination, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"No, I've already told you at least three times, Hermione, nothing happened!"

Hermione sighed, mulling over what Harry had told her about Ron. She was worried about him; he was never usually this down. Ron hadn't come down from his room since yesterday after class and it was already half way through the next day.

"I just wish he would tell us what was wrong," she sighed to Harry. "Look, why don't you just go up and talk to him."  
"I don't think that's going to be much good. When I went up last night he was just pretending to be asleep."

"You have to try Harry, he can't keep doing this."

Muttering grumpily under his breath Harry trudged slowly up to the boys' dormitories and knocked on the door. There was no reply but Harry heard a scuffle and a few seconds later loud snoring drifted out from behind the closed door. Trying not to laugh, he pushed the door open and went inside.

"Ron?" he called.

The volume of the snores increased.

Harry crept over to Ron's bed and pulled the hangings open quickly. Ron lay on the bed, eyes shut and mouth wide open. Harry chuckled evilly, reached into his pockets and pulled out some Every Flavour beans. Leaning over, he tipped the entire packet into the unsuspecting mouth of his friend.

Ron sat up immediately, coughing loudly and spraying multicoloured beans around the room.

"Harry, you idiot!" he yelled, chasing him around the room.

After a few minutes he calmed down and slumped back onto the bed. Harry looked at him.

"We need to talk."

"What if I don't want to talk, Harry?" asked Ron.

"You can't just lie here for more than twenty-four hours and expect your friends to turn a blind eye."

Ron glowered and turned away.

"Just tell me, Ron, what's wrong? I can't help you if you won't tell me."

"No, Harry. You can't help me, no-one can. It's personal."

"Fine, I'll go then, I'm obviously wasting my time here," said Harry angrily. "I'm just trying to help, but if you want to suffer on your own and shut your friends out then there's nothing I can do about it."

"Oh, you're one to talk, Harry. Always trying to go off and be all _noble _on your own."

Harry spun around and glared at Ron.

"Right, make it all about me then. I'm at fault for trying to protect you and Hermione. I thought that you understood me, but apparently not. If you can say that you're trying to protect me by not telling me what's wrong, then fine. But you're not, are you?" He glared at Ron, out of breath once again. Ron glared back for a minute before pulling the drapes around his bed roughly shut.

Harry stormed back down the staircase to Hermione who had her mouth open, about to speak.  
"Don't ask," snapped Harry, "I'm going for a walk."

Ron's isolation continued throughout the weekend, speaking to no one and sneaking down to the kitchen for the occasional lonely meal. Finally, on Monday Hermione snapped.

"This is just out of control," she said to Harry. "I'm dragging him out of that bed and he's going back to class.  
"Good luck," said Harry wryly.

Hermione stomped up the staircase and slammed open the door.

"Ron, get out of bed this instant!" she snapped.

Silence greeted her.

Fuming, she flew over to the bed, wrenched the hangings apart and stared down at Ron.

"Get up, now!" she hissed in a deadly quiet voice.

Ron jumped and slid slowly out of bed.

"Get dressed, have breakfast and get ready for class. I am sick and tired of this stupid self-pity."

A few minutes later Ron was sitting at the Gryffindor table with Harry.

"What've we got first?" he asked glumly.

"Oh, er, divination," said Harry apologetically.

Ron's eyes shot wide open.

"I can't do this Harry, not yet!"

"What is the problem Ron? Just tell me and I'll do whatever I can to help."

"I – I can't Harry, you just don't understand."

Harry just raised and eyebrow at him.

"Stop it!"

"Tell me."

"No."

Harry stared at him.

"Harry," appealed Ron once more.

Harry shook his head and Ron sighed.

"Fine, but can we go somewhere more private?"

They got up from the table and walked out of the hall, into an empty classroom.

"So?" asked Harry.

"Erm, well…"

"Yes?"

"I – I think I like Professor Trelawney."  
"Er, like? As in…?"

"Ahem, like as in like."

"Oh my god, Ron. When did this happen?"

"I don't know, I guess in our last class it just sort of hit me. She looked so vulnerable when you were going on at her. And well, I don't know."

Harry looked at his friend in disbelief.

"And you're serious?"

"Yes, Harry! Do you see why I didn't want to tell you now?"

Harry nodded mutely, before starting to laugh.  
"It is pretty funny though, I mean, it's Trelawney!"  
"Harry!"

"Oh, right, sorry Ron. Anyway, um, it's time for Divination."  
Ron looked pained, before nodding.

"Right, let's go."

Harry led the way to class, Ron once again lagging behind.


End file.
